


5 Times Molly and Mycroft Didn't Actually and the 1 Time They Did

by Wetislandinthenorthatlantic



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 5 Times, F/M, Mollcroft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-04-12 06:34:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4468958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wetislandinthenorthatlantic/pseuds/Wetislandinthenorthatlantic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I do not own these characters. There are for entertainment purposes only.<br/>-----</p><p>This work is the 2015 Birthday present for my partner in Mollcroft Madness -- ThINKture!</p><p>-----<br/>Molly wasn't sure if she should be offended by the fact Mycroft Holmes had just referred to her lady parts as a precision instrument or bemused that he had referred to what had just happened as a "trial run."</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. And so it begins ...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thINKture](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thINKture/gifts).



> I do not own these characters. There are for entertainment purposes only.  
> \-----
> 
> This work is the 2015 Birthday present for my partner in Mollcroft Madness -- ThINKture!
> 
> \-----  
> Molly wasn't sure if she should be offended by the fact Mycroft Holmes had just referred to her lady parts as a precision instrument or bemused that he had referred to what had just happened as a "trial run."

Molly tried to keep her expression neutral, not giving away the fact that she was more than a little disappointed.

As casually as possible she glanced over at Mycroft. He was perched on the far-side of her couch, toying with his half-drunk tea and looking just as uncomfortable as she was feeling.

When this "thing" with the older Holmes brother began a few weeks ago she had high hopes for it. Molly discovered quickly she really liked him. Similarly Mycroft seemed to like Molly as much as he was capable of liking another human being considering he wasn't very good at such things.

But now here they were, mid-Sunday afternoon, sitting across the couch from each other in the deafening silence both trying not to make eye contact.

Looking at his watch Mycroft took a deep breath while setting his cold cup of tea on the coffee table. "Molly there is a matter I wish to discuss."

Steeling herself she took a deep breath and pasted a smile on her face as she wondered what he would start with: "It's not you, it's me," or "It's been fun but ...'"

"As you are aware we have been seeing each other frequently for the past 47 days ..."

Molly listened patiently as Mycroft repeated words that had obviously been prepared earlier.

"...and during that time I have enjoyed very much getting to know you better."

After a slight pause Mycroft continued

"Unfortunately duty calls and I must leave tonight."

Mycroft was now guiltily examining his perfectly manicured nails.

"This is an uncomfortable situation to put you in given the current embryonic state of our relationship."

Again he paused and swallowed hard.

 _Here it comes_ thought Molly: "Don't cry. It was never going to work. Perfect time for me to go. We can still be friends."

"In days gone by when men were sent to war, prior to departure they often engaged in activities with their female acquaintances that didn't quite match up with their current relationship status."

Molly remained silent and simply blinked in response not quite yet understanding exactly where this was going.

"My excursion will be gruelling and has no known end date, therefore," taking a deep steadying breath Mycroft plunged ahead. "I am requesting that we lurch our relationship forward this afternoon. Hopefully the result will be two-fold. First it will help you feel more secure of your status in my life while I am away. And secondly, completely selfishly, I might add, I will be provided with beautiful memories of you and our last few precious hours together to keep me company in the long dark hours ahead."

A thoroughly shocked Molly, her eyes wide and mouth open, could only blink for a few moments as Mycroft's words sunk in.

"You want us to have sex this afternoon?" Molly finally blurted out.  "Other than that snog after we had too much wine last week we haven't even really kissed!"

Mycroft went pale. "Oh good heavens no! I was ... umm ... planning on," he stammered as his face turned deep crimson. "Just using my ... " he gestured a small arc in the air between them wiggling his elegant fingers.

"So you aren't breaking up with me?"

Mycroft gently shook his head and mouthed the word no.

"But you ARE asking for us to engage in heavy petting this afternoon?"

Holding her gaze a very vulnerable and visibly nervous Mycroft, slowly nodded his head yes.

After taking a deep breath and considering the out-of-the-blue request Molly eventually nodded her head and let a smile creep across her face as she watched a wave of relief wash over Mycroft.

"Um. Give me about 10 minutes." Molly requested blushing, her head dipped shyly.

"Of course my dear," Mycroft stood as Molly left her living room and went into her bedroom.

When she reappeared a few minutes later Mycroft stood again. His heart was thumping in his chest as he noted Molly had brushed her hair and tidied up her pony tail, freshened up her perfume and lip gloss as well as swapping her chinos and floppy sweater for a cute summer dress.

"It's the wrong weather for this dress but I just thought it might be nice," nervously Molly ran her hands over the dress smoothing out imaginary wrinkles.

"It's perfect," Mycroft murmured as he slowly moved towards her. He had taken off his jacket (but left on his waistcoat), rolled up his sleeves to his elbows and washed his hands.

Both were shaking with nerves as the gap finally closed between them. Mycroft tentatively slipped a hand around Molly's waist. Looking deep into his eyes Molly gently stroked Mycroft's cheek and brought his head down to hers. Their lips meeting in a soft kiss caused two hearts to skip beats in anticipation.

"Where..." asked Mycroft anxiously, their foreheads together, sharing gasped breaths. With a smile, silently Molly took Mycroft's hand and led him into her bedroom.

//

Twenty-three minutes and two pleasant but mostly unremarkable orgasms later Molly sat up in bed and once again smoothed down her dress.

"I have left you a warm flannel on the side of the basin," commented Mycroft as he came out of her bathroom. He gave her a casual glance as he moved through the open door to the living room calling back to her, "I suggest this would be an excellent time to clean up and use the facility." By now she could hear Mycroft rummaging around in her kitchen.

Molly, for the second time that day, found herself slightly disappointed but did as she was told and headed into her loo. It felt more like she had been part of a medical exam than a sexual encounter. Prior to this afternoon she would have expected this sort of behaviour from Sherlock not Mycroft -- perhaps the brothers are more similar than even she could have guessed.

She was sitting in the edge of the bed when Mycroft came back in holding a small glass of orange juice. He held it out to her.

"Thanks. That was, umm, nice." Molly drank the juice and handed him back the empty glass.

Setting the glass on the side he looked down at her. An ever so slight smile was pulling up the corner of his mouth. "Are you ready to get started?"

"Started?" questioned Molly. "Aren't we finished?

Small chuckle escaped from Mycroft. "My dear you didn't expect me to operate such a precision instrument without a trial run did you? I will ask again --are you ready?"

Molly wasn't sure if she should be offended by the fact Mycroft Holmes had just referred to her lady parts as a precision instrument or bemused that he had referred to what had just happened as a "trial run." With nervous hesitation Molly scooted back up onto the bed, lay back against the pillows then quietly said "ready." Mycroft softly kissed her while he rested his hand on her upper thigh in just the right spot, with just the right pressure to ignite a fire between her legs almost instantly.

//

Forty-seven minutes, and honestly-she-couldn't-remember-how-many-times-she-had-cum later a naked Molly, her body covered in a film of sweat was gasping for breath as she slowly returned to Earth safely cradled in a pair of strong arms.

"It's your turn," panted Molly as she put her hand on the large bulge in Mycroft's trousers.

"No it's not," hummed Mycroft gently as he gritted his teeth and took Molly's hand and moved it off his groin.

"Then when you get home." Molly's eyes were closing.

"Yet more impetus for me to return," Mycroft murmured into her damp hair.

Stroking her back while peppering the crown of her head with soft kisses Mycroft soon heard regular deep breathing.

//

When Molly woke up hours later she was alone and very sore.

Her dress was folded neatly and sitting on the chair. Her knickers and used flannel were on the edge of the dirty clothes hamper.

And most amazingly, she was in her most comfy pyjamas.

On her nightstand was a bottle of ibuprofen, a glass of water and a note:

_Wherever I am, I am thinking of you. Always, MH_


	2. 54 Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moving closer to the gurney Molly lent down and whispered, "I did make you a promise, so when we get back to London,” Molly paused, surprised to see Mycroft shake his head “No” while a smirk appeared on his face. 
> 
> “What? Now?!" exclaimed Molly. 
> 
> "Yes please," Mycroft whispered his voice shaking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the UK a washcloth is called a flannel. I have used cloth and flannel interchangeably.

Mycroft was relieved it was Jeremy and his troop who found him in the thick bracken. As he was being unceremoniously bundled into the back of a rusting truck Mycroft allowed himself a moment to savor a small morsel of relief.  

Following standard procedure, after Mycroft was settled amongst the sacks of potatoes and cabbages, and the chugging vehicle had once again been coaxed into continuing its journey, Jeremy asked the daily question, "Message sir?"  

Eyes closed, his mind focused on ignoring the pain, Mycroft shook his head and mouthed the word "No." 

Satisfied that his cargo was content for the moment Jeremy tossed a piece of scratchy burlap over Mycroft. For the rest of the night the ancient van filled with an SAS troop disguised as locals continued to unsuspiciously rattle its way down the unpaved road.  

On the third day of the journey when the question was asked Mycroft (eyes still closed) whispered "Molly" so quietly that Jeremy almost broke protocol and asked for a repeat.  

'Secret messages are funny things,' thought Jeremy as he dropped the vital word into the appropriate slot in the specific conversation so it could wind its way towards London. Some of the most innocent sounding words can be the most significant. He wondered just what sort of chain reaction he had just started: cyber attack, carpet bombing or economic sanctions. 

Forty-eight hours later Jeremy would find himself too shocked to say anything more than his name and a quiet "Well I'll be damned" when his commanding officer introduced the two women who had just arrived in the private jet.  

// 

Hearing the measured rhythm of footsteps coming down the linoleum hallway Mycroft closed his eyes and took a deep breath. 'It had been a rare moment of weakness,' he reminded himself. And it was too late now to change the current course of events. He would just have to see how she dealt with ... 

The soft whoosh of the door to his room opening caused his eyes to snap open and blink twice due to the glare of the harsh fluorescent lights hanging over the gurney he was lying on.

Anthea with her pleasant but usual neutral expression entered his room followed closely by Molly.  

Mycroft fixed his gaze on Molly. She still had on her lab coat and work clothes. Slung over her shoulder was her usual oversized bag. Standing rooted to the floor only two steps into the door her eyes were as big as saucers as she stared at Mycroft lying on the stretcher in the middle of the room.  

Glancing over to Molly, Anthea reached out and laid a steadying hand on her arm. This small act of comfort seemed to draw Molly out of her imagined narrative of what she would find and back into the reality of this strange situation. Giving her head a small shake, Molly looked around the room.  

This was clearly some sort of makeshift medical facility. The walls were painted a sickly blue-green. Leaning against one wall was a tall metal cabinet with double glass doors; inside a sparse selection of dusty medical equipment. In the far corner stood a slightly bent IV stand and in the other corner a dusty basin on a rusty stand.  

Taking a deep breath, her shoulders dropped, her head rose slightly and once again she looked at Mycroft.  

Molly had vanished and Dr. Hooper was now in the room. 

"Where is his paperwork?" even Mycroft was surprised that the question carried such authority. He gave a slight nod to Anthea who stepped out of the room, said something in a language Molly didn't recognize and soon returned with a metal chart which she handed to Molly. 

When Molly opened the chart Mycroft closed his eyes. He knew what she would find and he would rather not read it on her face: exhaustion, slight trauma to his hands from hanging off a window ledge for nearly two hours, slight trauma to lower back and ankles from eventually falling from the window ledge, bumps and bruises from traveling overland in the back of a potato truck for five days. 

Letting out a deep sigh Molly closed the chart and handed it back to Anthea. "I suspect it could have been a lot worse. I am sure I will find Mycroft eventually, once I get him cleaned up."  

The two stepped out of the room and Mycroft could hear Molly telling Anthea what she needed, Anthea translating the request followed by the sounds of a people bustling around. A handful of minutes later Molly returned to the room. In her hands she held a small pile of fresh linens with Mycroft's toilet kit perched on top. "Not exactly what I could get from the laundry at Bart's but at least they are clean." She smiled and looked slightly more relaxed. 

Soon a small table, another basin, a bottle of water, and more bandages arrived. After cleaning both basins and organising her supplies Molly glanced over to Mycroft before she opened his toilet kit. Again a small nod gave her permission. 

A young, nervous man appeared in a basic but tidy uniform to fill both basins up with steaming water. Molly used hand signals indicated that more water should be prepared. Finally she approached the gurney and laid her hand on Mycroft's shoulder.  

"I'm going to get you cleaned up now. Okay?" Her tone was gentle and calm. 

Taking a deep breath and allowing relief to slowly begin to seep into him Mycroft nodded.  

"I'll start by washing your hair. When was the last time it was washed?" 

"Over a week," whispered Mycroft closing his eyes again. 

"That was my guess," replied Molly softly as she moved the basin stand. It made a loud scraping noise on the floor. 

Soon the sound of shampooing filled the eerily quiet room. During the final rise Mycroft let out a soft groan, "That feels so good." 

Molly smiled. "I thought it would. Ready for your face and teeth to be done?" 

Mycroft nodded again, this time with a small relieved smile on his face. 

While Molly brushed Mycroft’s teeth more water appeared and both basins were refreshed. Molly rinsed her cloth and then gently rubbed it over Mycroft's face (now sporting the beginnings of quite a nice beard),   
neck and ears. 

"There you are! I knew I would find you under all this dirt!" laughed Molly. Mycroft sighed and gave her a genuine smile as he watched her rinsing out her cloth again. 

"What time is is?" Mycroft's voice was slightly raspy from lack of use. 

"I am not sure what time it is here. Actually I don’t even know where here is," admitted Molly nervously, "but in London it is 9:37pm. The flight was about four and a half hours. I had never been in a private plane before." Molly looked a bit embarrassed to admit this. 

"54 days."   

Molly's eyes met Mycroft's. She watched as he swallowed hard and blinked quickly as if to clear his eyes. 

"You said you were going to be gone a long time so I didn't count. I thought it would be easier for me that way. None of that matters now. I'm here. Ready for me to keep going?” 

Again Mycroft nodded.  

Molly pulled the filthy sheet back to uncover Mycroft's chest and upper arms. She tried not to wince as she looked at the bruises on his shoulders or the angry welt on his  chest. Even working as gently as possible Mycroft still hissed in pain twice. Quiet apologies tumbled from Molly's lips.  

With a bit of pulling and pushing Mycroft was able to sit up so his back could be checked and cleaned.  

Once he was laying back down Molly removed the bandages covering his hands. Looking at the swollen fingers Molly sighed. "Two hours hanging from a window ledge." This was both a statement and a question. When it became clear Mycroft was not going to elaborate Molly asked him to perform various mobility tests with his fingers then she cleaned and dried between each finger and gently re-bandaged them up.  

"So ... the last time I saw you," Molly standing over the basin rinsing the flannel out didn't finish her sentence. 

"It certainly had the desired effect," replied Mycroft smiling.   

Moving closer to the gurney Molly lent down and whispered, "I did make you a promise, so when we get back to London,” Molly paused, surprised to see Mycroft shake his head “No” while a smirk appeared on his face. 

“What? Now?!" exclaimed Molly. 

"Yes please," Mycroft whispered his voice shaking. 

Gently Molly ran her hand down Mycroft's face. He closed his eyes and turned into her touch savouring it and choking back a groan when she broke contact to walk over to the door. He could hear her ask for more water and request Anthea not to let them be disturbed as she was going to finish his wash. Looking over Molly's shoulder Anthea caught Mycroft's eye who responded with a nod. While the basin was being refilled Anthea assured Molly that the two would be left alone until she knocked.  

The door closed then they heard a lock turn allowing them both to finally relax.  

"Now. Where was I?" asked Molly with an impish grin as she re-wet the cloth in the fresh warm water then moved down to the foot of the gurney. She uncovered Mycroft up to his knees and began washing his swollen ankles.  

As he let out a sigh and Molly could feel him relax under her touch. She slowly moved up Mycroft's legs, behind both knees, rinse the cloth again, then over his muscular thighs. Her hands under the sheet continued to methodically move up his body. 

Mycroft gave a sharp intake of breath and swallowed hard as the sheet over his groin began to move. "Shhh. It's alright. Just relax," murmured Molly as she continued to rinse the grime of five days and at least three countries off Mycroft. 

By the time she had cleaned his hips, the soft inside of his soft upper thighs, and abdomen Mycroft's breath was ragged and his eyes were squinting closed. He groaned in glorious agony when Molly took her hand out from under the sheet to once again rinse the flannel. His eyes lazily opened and he looked at her longingly. Smiling Molly lent down and stroked his cheek as she brought her lips to his. He kissed her hungrily and only pulled away when his lungs felt like they were going to burst from lack of air.  

Molly slipped her hand under the sheet and she watched as Mycroft arched his back off the bed and held her gaze .... 

// 

Twenty minutes after she had asked for privacy Molly gave a soft knock on the door. Anthea opened it up to find Mycroft completely clean, covered in a fresh sheet and fast asleep.    

Molly was standing with Mycroft's toilet kit tucked under her arm. "He's still a bit sore but nothing that the ibuprofen won't take care of. He should easily be able to make the trip home. I suspect he will sleep most of the way." 

"Very well Dr. Hooper. I'll let the pilot know we are ready to depart."  

Two orderlies picked up the gurney on which Mycroft lay and followed Anthea and Molly to the waiting plane. 


	3. Discussion During Pudding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I did warn you this doesn't work," offered Molly casually. "Most have tried. All have failed. Just doesn't seem to work for me."

Rolling her eyes Molly pushed herself up from lying flat onto her elbows. 

Looking down her half-naked body all she could see of Mycroft was the top of his head -- a few curls escaping from the death grip of the styling gel that had been applied hours ago. He was kneeling beside the couch with her legs draped over his tuxedo-clad shoulders. 

Arching her back Molly reached over her head with her left hand to retrieve from the side table the magazine she had been reading before Mycroft had arrived. Lying flat once again Molly yawned and started reading the article where she had left off. 

"Don't mind me," grumbled Mycroft from between her legs. 

"I did warn you this doesn't work," offered Molly casually. "Most have tried. All have failed. Just doesn't seem to work for me."

"Do you always insist on reading The Economist while having cunnilingus performed upon you? Perhaps I have found your problem." Having sat back on his heels Mycroft was now glaring at Molly. 

"Umm, sometimes I watch telly or text Meena to see what she is up to." Letting out a giggle Molly flicked down her magazine and was met with an icy stare from Mycroft 

"Not funny. You are not taking this seriously."

"No I'm not! Look, I have lived in my body for 36 years and this feels nice but that's about it. I know I said you could give it a try but don't take it personally. In this case it really is me not you."

Still with Molly's legs over his shoulders, Mycroft frowned, his eyes darting back and forth like he was reviewing something, muttering under his breath. 

Molly pushed herself back up on her elbows again. "Where were you tonight?"

"G8 subcommittee dinner," was the absentminded response. Mycroft’s mind was obviously elsewhere. 

"Have you been drinking?" 

"Silly question -- of course. You need to be quiet; I can't hear what he said." Pinching the bridge of his nose Mycroft squinted his eyes closed. After a few minutes Mycroft sighed and pulled out his phone. 

"You are not taking any photos of me like this even if you are Mycroft Holmes!" squealed Molly giggling and trying to close her legs. 

"Don't be silly. And stop wriggling. I'm ringing someone to find out what I am doing wrong. They swore this would work every time."

Molly froze. "What did you say? Do not tell me you were discussing my inability to cum through oral sex at dinner tonight."

"Your name was not mentioned specifically," Mycroft held up his hand to quiet Molly as he turned his attention to his phone. "Ah! Hello Shin it's Mycroft."

Molly lay back down and covered her face with her hands. She could hear sounds from a rather raucous party filtering through Mycroft's phone. 

"Sorry to ring. In regards to the discussion you and Vlad were having during pudding tonight," Mycroft stopped talking and nodded while listening to the other man speak. "Ah! It's counter clockwise! Yes, that is exactly where I have gone wrong. Oh sure ... Might as well while I still have you on the phone--"

Once again Mycroft dipped his head between Molly’s legs, this time however he ever-so-gently moved his tongue counter-clockwise. Before she could stop herself a primal groan tore from the back of Molly's throat. 

She could hear hearty laughter from the other end of the phone while a smug Mycroft thanked his colleague and hung up. 

"I'm so embarrassed I'm going to die,” mumbled Molly into her palms, still pressed into her face. 

"Allow me to ensure you die happy," smirked Mycroft repositioning Molly's legs over his shoulders.


	4. Relax. I know what I am doing.

Molly was woken up for the fifth time that night by Mycroft rolling over in bed. (She had slept through the other seven times he had tried, unsuccessfully, to rearrange himself into a comfortable position.)

After a very disgruntled sigh she sat up and turned on her bedside table light.

Sheepishly Mycroft looked up at Molly who was now sitting up in bed. "I'm sorry. I should not have stayed."

"What are you thinking about? And don't say 'nothing'-- I deserve to know what has interrupted my sleep for the last three hours." Molly had taken out the soft elastic from her hair and was busy putting in a fresh ponytail.

"Migrants. Greece. Syria. The usual trifecta." Rolling into his back Mycroft sighed and threw an arm over his eyes. "My mind is racing. I am in agony."

Flicking back the duvet covering him, Molly nearly scared Mycroft to death.

"What on earth are you doing?!" With her hands on either side of his hips Molly was tugging down Mycroft's pyjama bottoms and pants.

"I am going to cause all mental function to stop for about five seconds so you can fall asleep. Bum up so I can get these trousers off." The words were delivered with little tenderness from the exhausted woman.

"What? Wait!" Suddenly Mycroft was very nervous. "No! Molly please, the first time we-- you know -- can not be like this." pleaded Mycroft as his butt involuntarily lifted as instructed. He watched helplessly as his pyjama bottoms and pants were unceremoniously tossed over Molly's shoulder.

"We are not going to have sex."

Gritting his teeth, squinting his eyes shut tight, Mycroft was trying not to think about Molly, beautiful, sweet, sleepy Molly, knelt between his legs. "Then why have you tossed half of my clothes across the room?"

"They were in my way," was the deadpan response.

"Please Molly. I'll be fine. Just come here and give me a cudd--ohmygod--mypenisisinyourmouth!" gasped Mycroft as his body involuntarily arched off the bed.

Stopping momentarily, Molly was rather mater-of-fact about the situation. "I know. I put it there. Relax." And then she put him right back in her mouth.

It had been a long time since Mycroft had found himself in such a delicate position. All previous times had included dinner, an expensive gift and some serious begging to convince his companion to pleasure him in this (his favourite if he was honest) way. Tonight he hadn't even had to ask, she just pulled off his pyjamas and-- _damn_!

"That's better," said Molly with a smirk, her mouth now much more full.

"Molly. Listen to me. If you keep doing that I am going to--" there was now a certain pleading tone in Mycroft's voice.

Rolling her eyes Molly stopped dead.

"Mycroft Homes. I am a doctor who has read volumes on male genitalia and how it works. I know full well that if I didn't have my thumb right here," she pressed her thumb deeper into the base of Mycroft's member, "when I flatten my tongue and lick the underside like this--"

"Holymotherof***something foreign and intelligible***" followed by panting before he was removed from her mouth once again.

"One of your minions would be re-painting my ceiling tomorrow. You can keep lots of things from me ... Who is going to be the next head of the Labour Party ( _Molly licked, Mycroft moaned_ ) ... When the stock market will next crash ( _lick, whimper_ ) ... Or even when Prince Charles will become King ( _lick, pant_ ) but when your cock is in my mouth you don't need to warn me. I know exactly when you are going to cum. Relax. I know what I am doing."

Teeth gritted, eyes scrunched closed Mycroft hesitantly nodded and slowly relaxed into the expert care of Dr Hooper.

//

Twelve minutes later Molly tucked the duvet back around a gently snoring Mycroft, flipped over her pillow, fluffed it up, then with a self-satisfied smile turned off the light and finally fell fast asleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello sorry for the delay in finishing this birthday gift. All of the final chapters are basically done so I will now be posting one a day for the rest of the week. Enjoy!


	5. Excitement Doesn’t Suit My Elderly Brother

The issue in the Ukraine had gone on far longer than anyone had anticipated. So long in fact Molly had stopped marking the days off on her calendar charting Mycroft’s absence. She knew he would be home as soon as he could and the best thing for her was to not think about exactly when that would be.

Sherlock felt the weight of his brother’s absence just as much as Molly did.  Perhaps in an effort to comfort each other he devised a series of vital experiments to be conducted every afternoon in her lab.

This is how he found them: Sherlock hunched over a microscope; Molly doing her paperwork in the general vicinity, but not too close as to be, as Sherlock so un-gently put it, “annoying.”

“Hello Molly. Sherlock,” Mycroft’s distinctive voice resonated through the silence of the lab causing Molly’s heart to skip a beat and Sherlock to look up despite the critical stage of the experiment. A quick flick of the hand (a signal between them) kept Molly from jumping up and leaping into his arms. Instead she remained seated while Mycroft approached her.

“Welcome home Mycroft,” Molly could not keep the large smile from her face or the relief from her eyes.

“Thank you very much Molly.” Mycroft returned the smile.

“Home in one piece brother mine. Shame.” Sherlock’s attention was back on his experiment.

“Yes. Sorry to disappoint Sherlock. Molly how have you been keeping? Are you well?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “She’s fine Mycroft. I would assume your minions gave you daily updates on the status of your goldfish.”

“Girlfriend Sherlock,” corrected Mycroft.  “Of course they did but that is no comparison to discussing with her how she is.”

“Ugh. Am I going to have to put up with this domestic dribble until you drive me home?”

“This is the price you have to pay if you wish a lift.” Mycroft replied with a smirk and turned his attention back to Molly.  

//

It was a full 45 minutes (Sherlock had to run the experiment twice) before the trio found themselves in Mycroft’s car on the way to Baker Street.

“I could do with some food. Stop at Waitrose on Finchley Road,” ordered Sherlock from the front seat. Looking for approval in the rear-view mirror Mycroft's driver saw Mycroft gave a curt nod of his head before rolling his eyes and returning his gaze to out the window. 

The three continued on in silence until the car came to a stop near the store. Sherlock held his hand out to his brother, “Cash?”

With an incredulous look Mycroft reached into his jacket pocket, pulled his money clip out, tapped his driver's shoulder and handed him the money. “Watch him.”

An instant after the two front doors closed Molly unclipped her seatbelt and slid onto Mycroft’s lap straddling him, kissing him hungrily taking the British Government completely by surprise.

“I hate your brother,” Molly moaned into Mycroft’s mouth as she ground herself into his lap. 

“God I missed you,” she whimpered unable to control her movements – she was too far gone.

Whatever resolve Mycroft had completely dissolved when Molly unravelled in his arms moaning his name, fully clothed, while sitting on his lap in the back of his car. Instinctively Mycroft, his hips searching for any friction, pulled her down on him … once … twice … before his eyes scrunched closed and profanities spilled from his lips.

After a moment to compose, Molly placed a gentle kiss on Mycroft's lips, slipped off his lap, moved back over to the far side of the car and put her seatbelt back on.

“I do not ever remember soiling myself in such a way before,” responded Mycroft as soon as he regained the ability to speak.

Adjusting her pony tail and straightening her jumper Molly gave Mycroft the cheekiest of smiles. “Good. I like to keep you on your toes.”

//

A handful of minutes later Sherlock and Mycroft’s driver returned,  put the bags of groceries in the boot and got back in the car.

“Oh. And then last Tuesday-- do you remember my friend Karen? I told you about her. She was the one who had the review at work recently? Her boss just had a baby boy?” Molly was sitting up straight with her hands laced together and wrapped around one of her knees.

“I remember,” replied Mycroft. He was looking at Molly with a very interested look on his face.

“Well, she had her review and in the review her boss told her that while she had been doing a very good job that she thought Karen had been taking too long on her afternoon coffee breaks--”

“Really? That doesn’t sound like Karen,” Mycroft made a small frown.

As the car pulled out and maneuvered back into the London afternoon traffic Sherlock turned in his seat to stare at the two in the back.

“Ugh. Such a tedious domestic scene. How do you two stand it?”

Mycroft scowled at Sherlock.

“Brother why is your coat closed?” Sherlock was now starting intently at Mycroft. "You never have your coat buttoned in the car."

“If you must know, there was a draft when you opened the door earlier. I was worried I would catch a chill so I buttoned my coat,” replied Mycroft with an air of superiority. 

Now it was Sherlock’s turn to roll his eyes. “Molly please make sure not to put any marshmallows in his cup of cocoa tonight.  Excitement doesn’t suit my elderly brother."

"I’ll keep that in mind Sherlock,” replied Molly innocently. 


	6. The Critical Bit of Information

Molly pushed the door to her lab open with her hip. Her hands were full carrying three heavy file boxes. She shot Sherlock a dirty look as she entered. 

"Thanks for the help."

Looking up it was clear Sherlock hadn't even registered that Molly had left the room 45 minutes ago, let alone just returned.

"Molly. A bit of advice," began Sherlock. 

Rolling her eyes Molly prepared to be scolded for either interrupting him at a critical stage in his experiment or a lecture on how she should "lift from her knees" when carrying heavy file boxes.

"When my brother thinks he has won, he stops playing the game."

"What?" Molly looked confused. "What are you talking about?"

"You heard me." replied Sherlock with a distracted tone. He was attention had already returned to the petri dish in front of him. 

"Why tell me this now? Mycroft and I have been seeing each other for months."

"Because within 36 hours you will find this to be the critical bit of information on which your future happiness depends," explained Sherlock absentmindedly.

//

Exactly 24 hours after her conversation with Sherlock Molly found herself tangled up in freshly changed sheets with Mycroft.  After the months of enjoying "everything but," the two were both covered in a film of sweat, gasping for breath after a very enthusiastic session of what can only be described as passionate sex.

In one smooth motion Mycroft rolled off Molly and scooped her up so she was lying with her head over his still racing heart.

"That was simply spectacular my dear," gushed Mycroft still breathless. "Never better," he whispered into the crown of her head.

Looking up at Mycroft she could see in an instant that part of him had already "ticked that box" and was moving on. He was done. His primal quest had been achieved; the maiden had been bedded. It was only now a matter of time before-- he was already reaching for his phone.

His phone in one hand, he smiled down at her. "I Just need to see if there are any updates on the Ukraine situation." he explained as he opened up his email.

  
_Good old Sherlock_. 

Taking a small breath she held it willing her heart rate to lower.

"Um yea. It was okay,"

Mycroft looked away from his phone screen and at Molly with a frown on his face.

"Just 'okay'? Correct me if I'm wrong but I do believe you climaxed three times within the last thirty-five minutes and by your standards that is classified merely as 'okay'?" He was looking at Molly like she had recently grown a second head. 

In truth there had been four and a half orgasms and what had just transpired was both remarkable and unprecedented but she held her ground. "Well. You know," she added with a shrug of her shoulders.

"No. I don't know." Without looking Mycroft closed his phone and set it screen down on the bedside table. "Explain."

"All I am saying is that it was fine. There was nothing wrong with it but--"

"But?"

"But it was our first time and there is always room for improvement."

Narrowing his eyes Mycroft stared hard at Molly. " _Improvement_?" He stumbled over this word like he had never said it before.

"Yes," replied Molly feeling more brave. 

Unceremoniously Mycroft pulled his arm out from under Molly giving her a disgruntled look as he swung his long legs off the bed. Standing and taking a few tentative steps on still wobbly legs he retrieved his robe from a nearby chair and slipped it on.

"Mycroft wait! I didn't mean--," begged Molly.

Silently Mycroft glared at her while purposefully tying the belt on his robe.

"Where are you going?" pleaded Molly.

"To my library. I am sure there is a copy of the Kama Sutra in there somewhere. While I'm gone try to have a rest. You are going to need it," he said ominously with a gleam in his eyes.

"If she wants improvement, I'll show her improvement." Molly heard him mutter under his breath as he left the bedroom.

With him gone she let her heart rate return to racing. _Oh Molly what have you done!_? she asked herself wondering just how much "improvement" she could handle. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again ... Happy Happy Birthday thINKture!


End file.
